


The Ballet Boy

by AlwaysACuteMess



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Angst, Ballet AU, F/M, Friendship, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysACuteMess/pseuds/AlwaysACuteMess
Summary: When all's said and done, who's the real star of the show?





	

**Author's Note:**

> A commission companion piece done for Bubs (boopity-shmooples.tumblr.com)!

He had been waiting for what felt like a lifetime. Waiting for the cast list. Waiting to know if days upon days that bled into nights upon nights of practice would prevail. He’d tried so hard to catch up to _her_. To make sure he could be alongside her- because there was not a single doubt in the world that she’d get the other part. And he thought- well he _hoped_... that they’d make a great team. More than anything.. he just wanted to share a spotlight with her. And maybe open the door to something other than early grunts as lessons started, **professional** nods and waves of the hand. He wanted more.

Even if sometimes he felt like he didn’t deserve it. She did everything the right way and he always had to stay behind to try and make sure he didn’t fall behind her. Had to get her mother to help him out where she seemed so effortless. And here they were. Standing at opposite ends of the line as roles were being doled out. She got one of the main parts. No surprise-

And then his name. At the other end of that duet. He felt his heart swell. “Congratulations, Dan. I know how hard you’ve worked for this.” Their instructor was practically beaming as hard as he was. No doubt proud of his progress, what she’d managed to teach him through. He waited for the other shoe to drop, and it never came. Then suddenly. She was gone.

He turned his head just in time to see the door towards the locker room swing shut. Then all that warmth dissipated into a cold lake of iciness. She didn’t want to dance with him. Was frustrated, probably, that they’d been put together. Why would she feel any other way? Disappointment consumed him from head to toe. He was five seconds away from calling it quits when something else consumed him.

Pride.  
He’d worked hard. And she had to know that he was trying. And if she didn’t, he was going to let her know. He was going to tell her that he’d do his very damned best to make sure the show was amazing. That she was amazing- as her male lead should. She would be hoisted up. Lifted without fear of falling. Twirled around and chased after on stage. He would be her shadow, not her secondary sharer. She was meant to look good.

Maybe she was just scared he’d ruin all of that.  
With that thought in mind he got his lanky legs to finally move him, clutching at one end of his sweat towel around his neck nervously as he pushed through. No sign of her in the locker room. Then he heard crashing. Angry noises- from the women’s bathroom. He knew he shouldn’t go in there. Especially if she was already pissed. They’d throw him out of the company. He’d probably deserve it.

But... something else about this... just didn’t settle right with him. Had she merely run away before her mother had had a chance to congratulate her? Or... had her mother...

A frown consumed his lips as those strong feelings roiling in his gut got him to stand in front of the door. “H-hey,” His voice didn’t coming out as strong as he’d wanted it to, but he tried to push around it. “Are you in here?” Hoping she wouldn’t just tell him to go fuck himself. No answer immediately came and maybe it was just his nerves making him impatient, but his hand pressed against the door and suddenly he found himself inside.

Looking, momentarily, at the piece of artwork dead ahead. A lone ballerina cast in shadows. How dreary... he ended up shaking his head and rounding the corner to come to the actual bathroom. A line of sinks. A line of stalls. Standard, he guessed. But where had she gone? Hiding? ...from him?

Slowly he walked down the floor, little tip-tap of his ballet shoes echoing softly around the otherwise quiet room. His left hand clasped his towel nervously. “Listen I-... I uh.. figured you were in here.” That sounded only  _too_ creepy and he was keen to try and fix it. “I don’t know why you ran but... uh.. y-you’re gonna miss the lesson...” Trying to think of _any_ excuse that would sound somewhat sufficient as to why he’d just chased her into the girl’s bathroom. Nothing would really be any good but his brain had somehow come up with that.

And it wasn’t _all_ wrong. He didn’t want her to not dance today because of... well.. whatever it was... “I know you wouldn’t want that.” Not after everything she went through. How good she was. Perfect attendance, no less. A small but almost humorless laugh came from him. Scared. Scared of out his mind. What was he doing in here? What was he trying to accomplish?

He continued to move carefully, tilting his head so he could eye the underneath of the stalls. Try to see if he could find her purple tights standing out against the vast sea of white tile. “”I know we haven’t gotten along since... well. Ever.” Dejected. Still talking. Almost purely to himself. Maybe she wasn’t even in here- no. She had to be. But that just made it worse. Should he shut up? Or let himself keep rambling?

“But I’m really happy for you.” The rambling most assuredly continued. “You earned this role and- and I... I’m really happy I get to do this with you.” His heart was hammering away in his ribcage. This was the most he’d ever said to her, not for lack of want. He could just never find the right time. The right place. And every so often when he got the courage to say ‘hello’ to her she just either ignored him or grunted something back.

Tired, he always told himself. She had to be tired.

His legs just seemed to stop working after that. Energy flooding out of him as he bled himself dry verbally. Slowly his head canted forward to rest against the nearest stall door as if that was the only way he was going to keep himself up if he planned to keep talking to her about all this. “I don’t know how I got this lucky but I promise I won’t screw this up for you. I’ll work as hard as you do. I promise.” Circling back to the original sense of defeat, and his perceiving of her disgust. That she was worried he’d blow it all. Couldn’t handle a role like this. He just wanted... just needed a chance...

“Please come out...” Sounding on the verge of begging. He didn’t want to be talking to the walls anymore. Or himself. Was she even listening? Was any of this getting through to anyone? Or was this another one of his daydreams where he fantasized about making it right with her. Being friends. Getting a coffee...

His quickly running thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening just a little bit to his right and he turned his head quickly to catch the sight of her. It wasn’t good. She looked angry. Angry and-

Distraught.  
She’d definitely been crying. He didn’t know what to do. How to feel. Or.. how to make it right.

“What do you mean you ‘won’t screw me up’?” Her tone was so hard it felt like it had whipped him across the face. He thought here she might give him examples of all the times he’d rolled his ankle or lost balance or fell over in a heap of gangly arms and legs- “You’re obviously...” Terrible. Irredeemable. No partner of mine- “Better than me...”

This almost hit him as hard as the first thing she’d said. He almost couldn’t believe it. Had he slipped into daydreaming at the line, perhaps? Thinking _she_ would say something like that to _him_. Shock took hold of his expression before he could stop it, turning to face her. “You think I’m better than you?” That had to be impossible.

“Everyone else seems to.” She sounded so dejected. So hurt.

Everything felt like it clicked into place. It wasn’t his gut reaction that was right. It was the lingering fear. That while he was watching her be perfect, she was busy watching _him_. While he was busy listening to the praise for her, she was only hearing the cheers _he_ was getting. How had things gotten so twisted up?

He came out of his mental circling and fog to see her sitting on the floor against the wall and he walked carefully over. “Tell my mother I- don’t know... I got sick or something.” Clearly not in the mood for lessons. Curling on herself, arm around her knees, head resting there so he couldn’t see her face anymore.

Padding closer he took a seat next to her, pulling the towel from around his shoulders and offering it to her silently. Waiting. Waiting for her to look up. And when she did he smiled, but it almost hurt to do. Like it wasn’t right. Sad. He was smiling sadly at her. And that was the worst way to smile at someone. “Believe me when I say I’m not better than you.” He had to fix this. Somehow. How could he go on dancing beside her knowing she felt this way?

Her face scrunched up in disbelief and perhaps just a touch of offense. “You’ve been getting extra lessons from my own _mother_.” Sitting back a little straighter as she regarded him. He felt her looking straight through. “She’s missed recitals because she wants you to master advanced steps-“

“That’s because I’ve been asking her for help to catch up to _you_.” It popped out of him almost defensively. How could she not know that? How could she think that their private lessons were anything more than just for him to get better? Not because he was the favorite, or because he was some master star ready to conquer the world of dancing. “You’re always staying late after everyone’s gone home, to practice moves that I’ve never even heard of.” He was almost overwhelmingly enamored with how much she seemed to love dancing. How much she poured herself into every single thing. “You put everything you have into your performances and no matter what move you have to pull off or what part you have to play you make it look like you were born to do it.”

And the only reason he knew this was because he watched her. From the back bar. From the sidelines. From just about anywhere he was sitting while she was moving. She was beautiful and graceful and the perfect description of ballerina. She moved like water.

Suddenly he couldn’t stop. His thoughts, stuff he’d kept hidden for years now- stuff that _rightfully_ should have never come out of his mouth was just flooding forward. “Ever since I started here, you danced like you were meant to do it. And watching you dance is _so_ inspiring to me. It makes me want to come to class every time even if it’s just to watch you lead demonstrations.” And some days after weeks of pileup, when his body ached right down to the core and wouldn’t move, the thought of seeing her somehow always got him out of bed. He turned, leaning on one knee to really look at her. “I mean it when I said I was happy to star alongside you in this production. You inspire me. You make me want to dance and practice and be as good as you.”

Was any of this getting through? Did any of it make sense? Would any of it accomplish anything? He was terrified all at once. Thinking maybe she would just tell him to leave her alone- and she’d have every right. He felt so bare. So open and stuck and vulnerable after having spat that all out at her. His heart seized in his chest. Overwhelmed with panic. Just at the cusp of taking it all back. Making some shitty joke, laughing nervously, telling her just to forget it-

“Okay, Danny.” That was it. And then she was on her feet. “If that’s what you want, let’s head back.” In that moment she sounded fine. As if none of this had happened.

He looked up at her, wide eyed. Scared that at any moment he was about to wake up. “Really?” Was this real? How could this be real?

“Well, duh, we can’t miss the first practice so get u-“ He couldn’t let her finish that. Just like everything else, his body just jolted into action. Legs springing up from underneath him and arms opening wide to wrap around her and crush her close. Laying his head on her shoulder.

In that moment feeling a wash of relief and... just a few bare seconds of thinking that nothing else in his life had ever felt as right as she did against him...

“O-okay! Okay!” Arms raising up between them to bat at him lightly. “G-get off me you muppet!”

His giggles, sweet and bouncy, burst to life, shaking his chest. Smile unfathomably bright as he looked at her. Like she’d given him a new lease here. A new start- with her. The most important part. And with that permission he reached forward, fingers tangling with hers as he took her and, pulling her from the bathroom and out onto the floor. Ready to start.

Ready to be with her.  
Dance with her.


End file.
